Unmapped (Treasure Hunter Security #6) Read online

  “Yes! I’ve been dying to see this present of yours since you blindfolded me.”

  He pulled the fabric off her eyes.

  In front of them, all his friends cheered.

  “Hi, Peri,” Dec called out.

  “There better be beer at the end of this,” Logan grumbled. “Hey, Peri.”

  She gasped and grabbed Ronin’s arm, squeezing it tightly. She stood there, her eyes as wide as saucers, in the middle of the front lawn of her little house, staring at the entire THS team. They were all hard at work. Dec, Cal, Layne, and Morgan were painting. Logan, Hale, and Zach were swinging hammers and fixing the porch, while Sydney handed them nails and wood planks.

  “Ronin—” Peri’s voice was thick.

  “You wanted a home, and we’re making one right here. I’ve never had a home before, just a place to sleep and store my things. But I want one, now.” He cupped her cheeks, and his heart clenched at the sight of the tears glistening in her eyes. But he’d been around her enough to know they were tears of happiness. “I want to build a home with you. I love you, Peri.”

  “I love you, too, G-Man.” She went up on her toes and kissed him.

  The taste of her hit his system, always thrilling, and he bent her backward, deepening the kiss.

  “Hey, give that girl some air,” Morgan said from nearby.

  The women surrounded them. Morgan hitched up her toolbelt, and Layne had a streak of paint down her cheek. Dani had her camera out and was taking candid photos, and Elin was smiling at them.

  “Where’s Darcy?” Peri asked.

  “Here!” Looking as polished as always, not a hair out of place, Darcy came through the dilapidated gate. She smiled. “Sorry, I don’t do manual labor.” She waved a hand at a table set up under a nearby tree. “I have a car-load of refreshments that need to be set up over there.”

  Logan pushed past. “I’ll get them.”

  Sydney appeared with a bottle of white wine and glasses. “I think it’s time for us ladies to take a seat and supervise.”

  Dani snorted. “You mean watch hot guys work and get sweaty.”

  “Do you think they’ll take their shirts off?” a hopeful voice said.

  Peri spun and Ronin watched her hug her sister. Amber’s bruises weren’t quite healed, but they were now a fading, sickly yellow. She was also smiling more, so he figured she was on the mend. The Butler women were clearly made of hardy stock.

  “I’m hoping the shirts come off.” This came from Elin. The FBI agent held out more wine glasses so Sydney could pour. The woman’s gaze drifted over to Hale. “My man has an amazing body.”

  Peri smiled. “My guy isn’t too shabby, either.”

  He mock-growled, and pulled her into his arms.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I know you were taking your time to renovate, but I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  Her fingers stroked his cheek. “You know, you may not have had a home before, Ronin—” her gaze drifted over to where his friends were working “— but you have a family.”

  Yeah, she was right. He glanced at his friends. He knew his life would have been a much darker, colder place without them. Hell, he might not have made it without them. He pulled Peri to his chest. And now, his life was filled with light and laughter.

  “And you’re my family, too, now,” he said. “My home is wherever you are, Peri.”

  As Elin shoved drinks at them, Ronin watched Darcy wander over to talk with Dec. He saw Dec frown, his face turning serious. Ronin’s instincts pinged and he wondered what was going on. No doubt he’d hear about it soon.

  “Hey, what about this, over here?” Peri pointed at a stack of wood nearby.

  Ronin shifted. “That’s for the fence.”

  “Fence?”

  “Yeah, the white picket fence I’m going to build.”

  Peri’s smile turned blinding. “That sounds great.”

  “I…ah, have something else for you.”

  Her smile widened. “You’re going to have a hard time topping this when my birthday comes around.”

  Shit. Ronin froze. He had to get her better things for her birthday?

  “Here you go,” Logan called out.

  They both turned to see Logan with his arms full of a wiggling bundle.

  Peri’s mouth dropped open. “What the—?”

  Ronin cleared his throat and took the dog from his friend. “This is for you.” He shoved the beagle at Peri.

  She closed her arms around the animal, pulling him close. “He’s gorgeous.” Her gaze locked with Ronin’s, filled with love.

  “He’s a rescue, but only a year old and in dire need of training.” He watched the beagle lick Peri’s face in fits of joy. “His name is Porthos.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s one thing you need to know, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s half mine. He’s our dog.”

  Peri set the animal down and he bounded away toward the food table. She grabbed Ronin’s shirt and pulled him closer. “Come here, G-Man. I need you to kiss me.”

  So Ronin kissed her—the only woman he’d ever loved and would love—standing in front of the house that would be their home, surrounded by the people who were his family, and their dog.

  I hope you enjoyed Ronin and Peri’s story!

  * * *

  Treasure Hunter Security continues with UNIDENTIFIED (a novella duo) which includes:

  - the story of how Professor Oliver Ward first met his treasure hunter wife, Persephone, on a jungle treasure hunt for an Incan emerald

  - the story of former Navy SEAL and Sea Nymph captain, Diego Torres and DEA agent Sloan McBride on an underwater hunt for another emerald. Read on for a preview of the first chapter.

  Darcy Ward’s story, Undetected (also starring a certain arrogant and annoying FBI agent) is now available for preorder!

  * * *

  For more fast-paced, action-packed romance, look out for my brand-new series, Team 52.

  Don’t miss out! For updates about new releases, action romance info, free books, and other fun stuff, sign up for my VIP mailing list and get your free box set containing three action-packed romances.

  * * *

  Visit here to get started: www.annahackettbooks.com

  Preview: Unidentfied

  His boots made a satisfying squelching sound in the mud as he crossed the jungle dig site.

  Oliver Ward grinned. His mom would be horrified. She rarely stepped a designer-clad foot off the Denver sidewalk, if she could help it. His dad would have a manly, resigned look on his face, and Oliver’s brother, Isaac, would just roll his eyes.

  It didn’t matter, though. Oliver couldn’t be happier.

  He was thirty-one years old and living his dream.

  He scanned the dig site. Several of his team members from the University of Denver were with him, including his mentor, Ben McBride. The archeologist had taught Oliver everything he knew. One day, Ben would retire, and Oliver planned to take over from him. Professor Oliver Ward. It had a nice ring to it.

  His gaze took in the irregularly-shaped cut stones embedded in the side of the muddy hill. They’d pushed the jungle back to give them access to the remnants of the stone works that had been previously lost to time. Unidentified ruins waiting for Oliver’s team to discover their secrets and their place in history.

  Archaeology in Ecuador was improving, but even now, in the late seventies, it was still haphazard and disjointed from a lack of funding. He looked up at the thick jungle surrounding the site. Through the vegetation, he caught a glimpse of the river not too far down the hill.

  It didn’t help that the site was in the Amazon jungle, on the wild eastern side of Ecuador. His boots sank into the mud again. The wild terrain made everything harder.

  There was lots more archaeology work going on in neighboring Peru—at the famous Inca ruins there. But Oliver knew there were fascinating Inca sites here, too, waiting to be discove
red.

  Just ahead, crouched down by the ruins of a rock wall, he saw Carlos Lopez, the local archeologist who’d brought in Oliver’s team. The man was smart, and keen to improve the methods and understanding of both the pre-Incan and Incan cultures. He wanted to share the history of his country with the world.

  “Oliver.” A woman’s voice made him turn.

  “What have you got, Cheryl?” He crouched down beside the hole she was digging.

  Dr. Cheryl Wilson was a good archeologist, although she didn’t love fieldwork, and mostly enjoyed being inside the university lecture halls. She didn’t hide her dislike of the mud, bugs, and the humidity. Still, he couldn’t fault her dedication.

  Cheryl lifted a shard of ceramic. He took it carefully, studying it. Perhaps a piece of cooking pot. Cheryl was watching him, her gaze on his face. He stifled a sigh. She’d kept dropping hints about them having dinner or catching a show. She was a smart, attractive woman. She’d started the day with her blonde hair styled into feathered locks that swept away from her face. He’d seen the style become popular with the students at the university as well. But here, the heat and humidity of the jungle had left her curls somewhat bedraggled.

  Back in Denver, Cheryl was the kind of woman he usually dated. But now, he felt…nothing but mild appreciation. To be fair, lately he’d been feeling disillusioned with dating. He gave in to the urge and heaved an internal sigh. No matter how attractive the women, he’d felt a lack of passion, excitement, and challenge.

  Growing up, Oliver’s father had wanted Oliver to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer. Law had made Oliver feel the same way as his dates recently—bored and stifled.

  History on the other hand… Excitement flooded his veins. The thrill of discovery, of uncovering parts of the past and fitting them together, making sense of where they’d come from, that’s what lit Oliver on fire.

  “Oliver?”

  He blinked and saw Cheryl beaming at him. She probably thought his look was for her.

  Shit. “Let’s see.” He lifted the pottery to eye level. “Doesn’t look decorative. It’s everyday stuff. This has to be a village.” He scanned the structures. He was sure these had once been houses.

  “You still think it’s Inca?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Probably.” But what were they doing here in the dense jungle?

  With a nod at Cheryl, he carried the ceramic shard over to the tent they’d set up to store their finds. Plastic tubs were filled with ceramic and carved stones. They had also found a couple of pieces of delicate gold jewelry.

  Ben was working nearby. The older man raised a hand before bending back to his work. Pausing, Oliver set his hands on the hips of his mud-splattered cargo pants and studied the rest of the dig site. A couple of people were working higher up on the slope. He carefully traversed the slippery stones pressed into the mud and headed in their direction. He wondered why the people who’d built this place had placed these stones here, had built their homes here. What was so special about this spot?

  “Hey, Oliver,” Dr. Sam Fields, a close friend of Oliver’s, called out. They’d studied together at college and been on several digs together.

  “How’s it going?” Oliver asked.

  Sam winked. “Slow and dirty.”

  “I like it slow and dirty, dude,” Cory Kowalski, another member of the team, said. The young man was a graduate student and they happily gave him all the dirty jobs.

  Oliver smiled, then glanced upward. The sky was filled with heavy, gray clouds. They’d get a downpour soon.

  Suddenly, he heard a scream, followed by several shouts.

  He spun and saw Cory sliding down the slope. The young man’s arms were flailing, but as his boots slipped off the stone, they hit dirt and he slid faster.

  Shit. Oliver leaped forward, his gaze shifting down to the long sweep of the Rio Napo. If Cory didn’t stop, he’d end up going over the edge and into the caiman-infested water. No one wanted to find themselves face to face with the aggressive alligator-like predators.

  Oliver reacted without thinking. He crouched, snatching up a coil of rope off a pile of gear near the edge of the dig. He ran across the slippery stones, praying he didn’t slip, and then threw one end of the rope.

  It snaked around a nearby tree. “Tie it off,” he yelled.

  Then he hurried down the slope after Cory. His boots skidded and more mud splattered up his khaki trousers.

  Right near the steep edge of the river, Cory had managed to grab on to some tree roots, and was holding tight, his face lined with fear. Mud streaked his cheek.

  Oliver pulled tight on the rope, coming to a stop just above the man. “Hang on, Cory.”

  The young man looked up and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “I’ve got you.” Oliver grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him up.

  Down by the river, Oliver heard a splash. He turned his head and saw that an interested caiman had slid off the bank.

  No snack today, buddy.

  Oliver quickly and expertly tied the rope around Cory. The young man’s chest was heaving. Looking back up the slope, Oliver waved at the others.

  “We’re going to take it nice and easy, and take our time walking back, okay?”

  Cory nodded. Using the rope, they carefully navigated their way up the muddy slope. It was slow going, but finally they reached the others.

  The young man collapsed on the ground. “You are one cool cat, Dr. Ward.” He scraped a shaky hand over his face.

  “You’re welcome.” Oliver slapped Cory on the back.

  As Cheryl whisked Cory off, Oliver leaned over and pressed his hands to his thighs. His heart was still pumping hard and he took a second to catch his breath.

  When he lifted his head, movement at the far edge of the dig, near the tree line, caught his eye. He spotted a small figure standing in the dense vegetation, sticking to the shadows.

  Was it a local? He frowned. At that moment, the first few spots of rain splattered down, hitting his shoulders and arms.

  From what he could make out, the person was small and slim, and wearing cargo pants and a khaki shirt. They had a hat pulled low over their face, but Oliver was sure the person was staring at him.

  For some reason, his heart kicked against his ribs, then he watched as the figure turned and moved along the tree line with a quick, economic gait.

  Then the heavens opened up and rain saturated Oliver’s clothes.

  Within seconds, he could barely see the trees, let alone the lone figure. He kept frowning. From the way the person moved, he was sure it was a woman.

  Who was she? Why was she watching his dig?

  Ben called out his name then, and with one final glance at the shadows, he turned to join the others.

  Persephone Blake strode down the street in the provincial capital of Tena, Ecuador. Perched on the confluence of two rivers, the town was a regional hub, and the number of tourists visiting was growing—lured by intrepid adventures into the Amazon. They had several cheap hotels and hostels, including the best one, where the American archeologists were currently staying.

  She nodded at a group of smiling kids playing with some dogs in the street. They grinned back at her, teeth white against their bronze skin and dark hair.

  Reaching the doorway to a bar and restaurant, she yanked open the door and walked inside. It was a dive, but had a certain charm to it.

  God, how many days had she spent like this in her twenty-six years? Walking into seedy bars or pubs? She’d lost count.

  Persephone headed straight for the bar and ordered a tequila in Spanish.

  Her Spanish was pretty good, her French passable, and her Portuguese a bit spotty. It was thanks to her good ol’ dad that she could speak a smattering of half-a-dozen languages. He’d certainly dragged her around enough countries during her childhood.

  The bartender nudged her drink toward her in a chipped glass of dubious cleanliness. She set the coins down on the scarred, wooden bar and t
ook a mouthful of her drink. It was watered down, but it would do.

  She’d spent most of her formative years in South and Central America, while her dad had worked mining, or oil and gas jobs. Her mother had popped into their lives whenever the hell it had suited her. Athena Blake only did things that suited her.

  Persephone shoved all thoughts of her mother away and took another sip of her bad drink. She turned slightly, so she could see the group sitting at the back of the bar.

  The archeologists had all showered and changed. She heard a higher-pitched laugh and zeroed in on the lone woman in the group. She was perched on the edge of her chair, wearing pants that were outrageously wide at the bottom, and had her blonde hair styled in huge feathered waves.

  Persephone snorted. The humidity in this country would make it a waste of time to do all that work on her hair in less than an hour. Persephone kept her own brown hair clipped short in a pixie cut. It was less hassle that way and required no styling. The group looked to be in good spirits, and Persephone saw the woman desperately trying to capture the eye of the man sitting beside her.

  Couldn’t blame the woman. The man was outrageously good-looking. Put him in a tuxedo and he’d make an excellent James Bond. He had thick, dark hair and an easy, sexy smile.

  Even from a distance, Persephone felt a curl of heat lick her belly.

  She squelched it. She had no time for men. They always disappointed her, no matter how pretty they looked. Besides, he’d spotted her today at the dig site. She must be losing her touch.

  Setting her glass down, she reached inside her shirt and pulled out the papers she kept in a clear, waterproof sleeve.

  The first thing she saw was a picture of a tropical island. White-sand beaches surrounded by azure waters. Her retirement goal.

  The next thing she pulled out was a photocopy of a page out of a handwritten diary. The writing was loopy and hard to read.